#thesquadevent

from cleo raja — truth: since coming back together again, who can you not stand? or just don’t like all that much? or dare: kiss everyone here, besides me, and tell us who’s the best.

“I’ll be the first to admit, I definitely think Kai’s too hot now, so fuck that,” TJ began. She was feeling pleasantly loose, having helped herself to a shower smirnoff before the game began. “But in general, everybody’s exactly the same as they were. The only difference is that Julian and Jenny are stuck with us and can’t ditch us for all their richer, cooler friends. I’m glad to be hangin’ out with my old buddies.”

from dakota harrison — truth: what’s one time you felt like the squad let you down? or dare: eat something you don’t like, right here and now.

Eating gross things was a Powell family tradition, and TJ had always had weird taste buds anyway. She considered, peering around the hotel room. “Did anybody bring a slim jim or jerky or something?” Since they had roadtripped, the teriyaki jerky was eventually produced-- TJ opened a new drink in preparation to eat a single nugget, choking it down before downing the third wine cooler just to rinse the taste of haunted cow from her mouth. “God, that mummy heat is so gross. It makes me feel like a zombie and I don’t know how anyone can casually snack on it-- but make note my mamma ain’t raised no bitch.”

from jenny jordan — truth: have you ever had a crush on someone in the room or dare: compliment me for three minutes straight.

She could already feel her cheeks burning at the idea of confessing to a crush, even in her late twenties, amongst her friends, so instead TJ was content to bite the bullet. She leaned forward, looking deeply into Jenny’s eyes and stated: “Start the timer.” Waiting for the go ahead, she began the flow of words. She’s already drunk, so they flow quickly and with sincerity. “Jenny, you’re so hot you put us all to shame. Your skin looks, and I cannot stress this enough, amazing. You could crush my head with your thighs and I would say thank you.  Your hair smells like sunshine and your teeth are super white. You never made me feel out of place when I was an awkward androgynous teen, and I’m really grateful for that. I’ve always loved your fashion sense and it’s only gotten cooler in the last decade. Remember when you loaned me a scrunchie in the eleventh grade? I do. It was the cutest part of my whole damn outfit, all thanks to you. I always thought you were really clever, and sometimes I used to suspect you could read minds. I think your job and the connections you make there are super cool, and I really envy your jetsetting lifestyle. You should have a show about your life like Keeping Up with the Kardashians, and you are so interseting I really would watch every episode--” The timer went off and TJ drew in a deep breath, feeling a little nauseous for having gushed nonstop without coming up for air. “Don’t let any of that go to your head, now, babe.” 

from julian campbell — truth: what is the cruelest thing you have ever done to a friend? or dare: let the person on your right give you a hair cut, right now.

“Well what I’m not gonna do is give any of you drunkie-drunks a pair of scissors,” TJ asserted. She was drunk but she sure wasn’t that drunk. Besides, if it wasn’t something she could undo after her hangover wore off, she wanted absolutely no part in it. “So I guess I’ll just have to admit to trying to exclude Cleo a little when we were all in school, y’know, cus she was such a baby and it kindof made me feel bad to be willfully providing her with booze and weed and things that would rot her tiny pre-teen brain. Sorry, Cleo. I already told you you’re way cooler now, though, so now return the favor and don’t do anything to me while I sleep.”

from kai eastaughffe — truth: would you kill a spider for me? or dare: kill the spider in my room for me.

TJ let out a dramatic sigh and got to her feet. The booze hit her then, she realized as the world tilted sharply to the right and she braced one hand on the wall behind her, trying to look casual as everything slowly righted itself. “C’mon, A-Kai Berry, show me where the spider’s at. I’ll keep you safe.” She didn’t even really want to kill the thing, but a dare was a dare so she made quick work of it with Kai’s hotel room remote.

from salem st. ives — truth: do you think your family was right to warn you to stay away from the dirtbag? or dare: phone any one of your brothers and tell them kai has always had a crush on him.

TJ barked out a laugh, completely forgetting the first option as the tantalizing dare was presented. “Oh, baby, you got it,” she agreed, pulling her phone out and waiting for the Face ID to unlock it. “Siri, call Miley Cyrus.” The phone rang a few times before TJ’s youngest brother Miles picked up. “To preface this, I do need you to send me a picture of Gizmo, stat, because I miss him,” TJ started, not even waiting for Miles to ask why it was he was calling her at such a late hour, clearly intoxicated. “But I did call you to let you know that all those years ago? My friend Kai was like, totally in love with you. Used to stare at your closed bedroom door while you were being a super emo, and pine for you, waiting for you to come out.” “Well, you’re clearly drunk,” Miles responded finally. “But that’s good to know, I guess. Which one’s Kai, anyway?” “Oh, you know the one. Skinny, big hair, looks a little nervous. He’s a lawyer now, though, so you could do worse.” Miles snorted, which TJ knew was an acknowledgement-- he knew exactly who she was talking about. “Yeah, yeah. Your dog’s asleep, do you still want a picture?” “Absolutely I do. Thanks for pickin’ up, Smiley. Go to sleep soon I’ll see ya in a couple days.” “Yeah, yeah. Night, Teej.” “G’nite!” She let the call end, looking over at Kai. “Miles is just a simple woodworker, but I bet he thinks you’re cute. He could be your trophy husband.”

from samuel flores — truth: do you wish that the squad had never parted ways? or dare: let each member of the squad send one text to anyone they want in your phone..

Since TJ had already tucked her phone away, she decided to take the truth, nodding empathetically as she finished her drink. It seemed wise to steel herself before this confession. “You guys were my only friends, like ever.” She lets out a nervous half-laugh. “Seriously, when I moved here nobody thought I could talk, remember? It wasn’t until I was accepted by all of you guys that I felt like it was, y’know, even worth it. Talking. And now I’m doing too much of it, a little? It would’ve been nice to celebrate everyone’s accomplishments when they happened. Coming together again like how we did is a real bummer.”

from skylar murphy — truth: what’s your biggest worry in life? what keeps you up at night? or dare: confide in someone you normally wouldn’t confide in.

Skylar’s question is the one that gives TJ the most pause. Maybe its because her drink is gone, maybe its because her tongue feels funny, but she takes a long time, chin tucked into her knees before responding. “I think I worry that, I’m going to be alone. Not like, romantically or whatever,” TJ clarifies, waving that away in case anyone tries to remind her that she don’t need no man. “I’m not worried about that. But... I just said you guys were my only friends. I think I just loved you all so much it’s been really hard to make space in my life for new people even after all these years. I think I worry that I can’t ever get our old friendships back, so I’m going to be alone.” Since that was thoroughly depressing, she reached for a cup that wasn’t empty and tried to settle comfortably back into her spot. “Who’s next?”

truth-or-dare form: please omit your own characters.

the academic — dakota harrison

truth:

dare:

the brat — cleo raja

truth:

dare:

the casual — tj powell

truth:

dare:

the golden — julian campbell

truth:

dare:

the gregarious — danny sire

truth:

dare:

the guardian — christabelle pabalan

truth:

dare:

the jokester — leigh mccartney

truth:

dare:

the lover — jenny jordan

truth:

dare:

the muscle — kelley rodgers

truth:

dare:

the outsider — skylar murphy

truth:

dare:

the punching bag — kai eastaughffe

truth:

dare:

the sarcastic — salem st. ives

truth:

dare:

the soul — samuel flores

truth:

from cleo raja —

truth: what’s one thing you would change about everyone here?

dare: consume everything in the minibar, alcohol aside, in five minutes.

He could not afford the contents of the minibar at this point, even not including the alcohol. Nor did he want to. 

“Simple. We’d all have colour-coded or elemental or animal super powers, à la Power Rangers, or Sailor Moon.” He shrugged.

“We have never been, nor can we ever be, a proper friend group, since we don’t have a transformation sequence.” He downed the rest of his drink. Tonight was the first night he was really letting himself consume as much alcohol as he wanted---it seemed fitting. Then he continued, before anyone else could take over.

“See, Salem would be something dark and edgy like a black motif with ice and a panther, Leigh would be like a sassy lion and the colour orange. Danny would be yellow and something that flies, an eagle? TJ would be green with like, an alligator or a snake, Cleo would be red and maybe a badass scorpion or spider or a biker thing going on. Jenny might also be red---I feel like you’d rock the pink outfit, though, and maybe have some secret like you can control time and are the most powerful of us and no one knows it. Skylar would be purple and wind powers, something pretty like a butterfly but like---deceptive, her wingbeats make hurricanes, I dunno. Sam’d be blue, cause it’s like “leader-y”, but he’d have like... sweet water powers or maybe a wolf thing going on... I dunno. Dakota would be white, and his power would be...” Here he blanked. “To perfectly slice a bagel, or he’d turn into an airplane? I don’t know what your deal is these days, I dunno who you are, dude. Jules would be gold and control the sun, probably. Kelley would be silver---not because she’s second best though, silver ‘cause she’d turn into like a thousand knives, or just a fuckin’ tank.”

“And I’d be the, uhhh... Turquoise Ranger. There’s never a Turquoise anything. But it’s cool, ‘cause I’d also have a sloth patronus or whatever, and you guys would still have to bring me along anyway.” He folded his hands and surveyed the circle seriously.

“The defense rests.” Lawyer-talk, bonus points. He mimed sinking a basketball, for good measure.

from dakota harrison —

truth: who do you dislike most out of all of us?

dare: arm wrestle me.

It only took one glance at Kota’s arms before Kai scoffed. “Yeah, right. That’s happening---real suspense in who’d win, you clearly just want to look good. I’ll take truth... Who I dislike most...” He thought about it for a heartbeat, squinting around at the assembled group. Sure, there were some there he could take or leave, but no one he truly, deeply disliked more than... “Myself, obviously. Not that you’re not all terrible in your own special ways.” 

There was a deafening silence, and he glanced around. “What? Too edgy? It’s called a truth for a reason---” Someone helpfully pointed out that answering yourself was against the rules, and he grew slightly more irritated with all of them. But only for a second. “Fuck you guys, let me be the emo one for once.” He sighed. “Whatever, let’s just... give the people what they want.” He rolled up his right sleeve, and leaned forward to plant his arm in the middle of the circle before flashing Dakota a wide smile and saying, “Bring it, Beardface. And I mean it---you throw this out of pity or something and I will destroy you some other way when you least expect it.”

from jenny jordan —

truth: what was the cause of your weirdest boner?

dare: put five ice cubes down your pants and leave them there.

“Saying no to the ice dick, thanks, darlin’.” It was a little hard to look at her longer than a second without remembering what she’d said about his eyes and... all that. He still hadn’t quite recovered from the stuff people had said on their turns. Skylar thinking he had a good personality was... misguided, but okay... Salem’s was intentionally weird (as he’d requested, so that one was probably on him.) But Jenny’s confession had taken him utterly by surprise and he still wasn’t sure whether she’d been entirely serious, or if she’d had some other reason for praising him. 

He cleared his throat. “Weirdest boner? Mr. Fuller’s math class, apropos of trigonometry. Isosceles triangles just do it for me, I guess. Or, it was the hell that is puberty, and a light breeze could have the same effect, so.” He was answering a lot of truths, it turned out. Whether that would grow uncomfortable in the near future, he wasn’t sure, but at least for once it was a game of embarrassment for everyone, not just him.

from julian campbell —

truth: who in the room has hurt your feelings the most, and how?

dare: do your best impression of three people in the room - really commit to it.

Well, he knew he wasn’t gonna touch that truth with a ten foot pole. He’s not certain who he’d answer, anyway. Most of the incidents kind of blurred together, and the ones that really stung weren’t things he was willing to admit under any kind of torture. Which left him eyeing the other individuals for targets.

Of course, the more sensible thing would be to separate the impressions. But once he’d settled on them, a scene was already forming in his mind---and they had a brief stint taking Drama in high school to thank for that, he figured. “Alright, but I need props...” With an effort, he pushed himself up, then travelled around the room collecting what would be most effective---a pair of oversized sunglasses, a phone, a scarf, a pair of big headphones from his own bag tossed in the corner, and... yeah, that’d work. 

He then proceeded to enact a familiar situation to all of them, Jenny and Salem being catty at each other---sunglasses perched artfully on a dismissive smirk when it was her lines, scarf draped around his neck lazily for pretentiousness rather than representing any particular habit of Salem’s, but it worked, and Cleo in the headphones, snapping peevishly at the others as she looked at her phone at intervals.

By the end of five minutes his brain was stretched to capacity, he’d nearly strangled himself twice in headphone cords and the scarf, and the sunglasses were haphazardly pushed into his hair. “...in conclusion, you’re petty assholes who need to handle your issues better, and I don’t know why I love you,” he finished, breathlessly, before collapsing backwards on the floor.

from salem st. ives —

truth: did you cheat to get through law school?

dare: spend the rest of the game blind folded and wear ear plugs under headphones turned full blast (so that any other dares can get done to him and he’ll have no idea who did it).

He wrinkled his nose at the dare. “I would have to be horribly masochistic to be into that, I hope you know that. And I’m only like... maybe lightly masochistic most days, so you’ll just have to be treated to my full presence for the rest of the game.” It was hard to sweep a mocking bow while seated, but he tried to give one to Salem with minimal spillage of his drink.

“And I...” He paused, and covered it by sipping at the medley of alcohol in his cup---was it his? Had he just picked it up? It tasted like sour patch kids, and he was fairly sure he’d had something in the brownish family. “Is this someone else’s drink?” he asked, keeping the suspicion that maybe he was being pranked---extra bonus prank on Kai night, you know---a private one. “Anyway, it’s delicious, so thanks.” The potential prankster could have their laugh, his drink was delightful. “As I was saying, I did not cheat in law school.” It was, he told himself, the absolute truth. He’d never even been in law school---so how could he cheat? His smirk lost some of its pep when he remembered why that wasn’t exactly the triumph it should be. Someone, somewhere, had actually been in law school and not cheated---but it sure as hell wasn’t him. His mouth tasted bitter, and the stolen drink didn’t help any.

from samuel flores —

truth: do you still resent how the squad treated you in high school?

dare: prank call one of your coworkers.

And there it was. The kicker. ‘Cause he didn’t have coworkers to call---unless you counted Jeremy and Yolanda from the sandwich shop. Who would not take kindly to being disturbed---high priced lawyers might shrug that shit off as a laugh. Minimum wage dishwashers, or his manager, would not. And, believe it or not, he actually liked his coworkers. They thought he was good at his job---and he was, obviously, but they treated him like he was. He wasn’t going to subject them to the... Recapturing Lost Youth Squad. Yolanda had three kids, for fuck’s sake.

He swallowed the remains of his cup and studied the bottom. “I wouldn’t say I resent it,” he said, surprisingly calm and serious for the moment. “That makes it seem like I’m out for vengeance on everyone or hate you all. I don’t, at all. I just want... I dunno.” His voice dropped to a mumble. “Respect, maybe? Or... something...” And now, because of his stupid choice to pretend to be something he wasn’t, some of them actually did respect him, but it wasn’t even him, not really. They respected a complete and total fabrication. He’d almost gotten what he wanted, but it felt hollow and fake.

from skylar murphy —

truth: when was the closest you came to truly getting upset with the squad’s jokes on your behalf?

dare: spread a rumor about someone in the squad that really grinds your gears (i.e. whoever pokes fun at you too much from your perspective).

“Uhhh...” He tried to think, this time, of something specific. After a minute, he nodded. “I do remember one time...” Which in hindsight, might’ve been a precursor to things to come, but he hadn’t been too wise about that sort of thing until he started actively looking for them at his therapist’s bidding. “After we saw the Arcade Fire concert in junior year, and everyone had bought merch. Remember, it was like, a status thing? Wearing the shirts the next day if you’d been to the show? Teenagers are trash.” 

“Anyway, they were actually pretty tame as jokes go, just about the shirt and how I had finally made a decent fashion choice, combined with like... the occasional jab about how now I looked like all the other indie pricks at school.” It really had been totally run-of-the-mill day, all things told---except he’d actually loved that shirt, and the concert had been a good memory. And it’d only lasted a day, because of their idiotic taunts, and his skin being surprisingly thin that week. “Went home and burned the thing in the fireplace. Of course, our fireplace wasn’t equipped for synthetics or whatever was on the logo, I dunno... Anyway the house filled up with smoke and I had to evacuate the munchkins to the lawn,” he said, referring to his siblings. “And got in complete shit for it. Never told any of you, but I think that’s the most pissed I ever got.”

from tj powell —

truth: do you like leigh or salem better?

dare: run out into the hall, knock on somebody’s door, and ask to use their bathroom.

He toyed with his lower lip, looking directly at the dimly-aware Salem as he tried to decide. It should be an easy answer, but his drink had been spiked after all---with indecision and philosophizing, apparently, because it occurred to him that for all his resentment of Leigh becoming joined at the hip with Salem instead, there was something that wasn’t quite... It wasn’t jealousy, really, because he also liked Salem. Genuinely. If he’d been in her shoes, he’d have opted to hang out with Salem, too. So he didn’t really blame her, and that’s what made it complicated. Leigh was his oldest friend, probably. They understood each other, and she’d never cut him out---when she could have. They became a trio instead. He eventually realized he’d been silently musing and staring at Salem for quite some time, and shrugged. “Fuck it.” He got shakily to his feet and went out into the hall, made a show of being choosy about which hotel door he was going to disturb before selecting one at random and knocking.

And then knocking at another when the first didn’t answer. Finally, the door was jerked open. A tall man with a handlebar moustache to rival most cowboy movies loomed over him from the doorway. “What do you want.” He snapped.

Kai blinked. “Uh, I---I lost my room key---can I use your bathroom?”

The man stared at him---then down the hall, where he no doubt saw the heads of several onlookers. “No.” 

The door slammed inches from Kai’s nose and blew his hair back with the force of it. He was happy to retreat with his indignity and the thought of ‘I’m twenty eight fucking years old, what am I doing’ echoing shamefully in his head, until he realized he had an ace up his sleeve---or on his hand, rather. He grinned down the hall at his friends, took the bandage off his right palm from the failed blood oath with Cleo, and knocked again.

The door opened. “Fuck off---”

“Please,” he implored, clutching his bloody hand. “I just need to wash off the blood, and then I’ll go...”

The man’s eyes widened. “Shit! Yeah, come on---I know first aid. How’d you manage that, son?”